Seasons in my life

Back in school in Kerala, the teacher taught us the four seasons.

I understood summer and winter, but not spring and autumn. And I didn’t know which one of them came after summer and winter! (Also, I could never get the spelling of autumn right!)

In my home state, we had only three seasons — summer and two monsoons (southwest and northeast). The month of December was neither hot nor rainy, just cold early in the morning!

Tabebuia rosea in Bengaluru.
Photo: K. Murali Kumar/The Hindu

LANGUAGE OF SEASONS

Much later, after my school years, when I developed a love for the English language (and a bit of literature as well), I came across Shelley’s famous poem Ode to the West Wind, the last line of which is the oft-quoted, “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”

The English professor’s explanation of the profound meaning of the poem, and more specifically of the last line, not only painted the world in front of me in brighter colours but also settled for good the confusion I had regarding the order of the seasons.

After spending the first 23 years of my life in Kerala, when I went to North India, I learnt what real winter was. I bought my first blanket in Bhopal in 1988 from a Khadi Bhandar for ₹100. He had asked for ₹120, but agreed to give it for ₹100. I still have it, and I still use it. It’s so thick, good, and warm. 

(Khadi Bhandar is a store where hand-spun and hand-woven cloth and cloth products are sold.)

CULTURE AND COLOUR

Seasons have shaped our local culture. Many of our festivals are so intricately tied to seasons. For example, Holi and Vasanth Panchami mark the end of winter and herald the arrival of spring; a time to look ahead to a bright and colourful future.

The best time of the year, as far as the natural beauty of Bengaluru is concerned, is January to March. The famous Tabebuia rosea (Pink Trumpet Trees) and similar species spring into bloom, bathing streets, parks, and neighbourhoods in colours of pink, white, and yellow.

Though in the north, that’s also the time when sweaters and other warm clothes are stacked away and forgotten for the next six months, that’s not exactly the case here in Bengaluru, which has been my place of residence for the past 26 years. The temperature here is almost always pleasant (in comparison to many other cities) but cool wind and rain bring the temperature down so much that we need warm clothes.

SUMMER OR WINTER?

Winter, which comes at the end of a year, is often characterised as a metaphor for everything that is gloomy. There is very little daylight time, with the sun hardly seen.

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But I can manage the cold better than heat; and I prefer winter to summer. This is, of course, in the context of India. I don’t know whether my preference would be the same if I were in Europe or Australia, Canada or the US. At least in the places that I have lived, summer has always been more intense and difficult to manage than winter.

The cold season does have several bright spots. The comfort of curling up under the blanket is unrivalled. Any food is too tempting to ignore. The streaming rays of sunshine are a virtual invitation to the outdoors.

SONGS OF THE SEASONS

When you think of seasons, invariably many songs come to mind. There are plenty of them in English, Hindi, and in my native language of Malayalam that celebrate seasons. It’s difficult to choose the best one.

I will go for Thandi Hawayein Lehrake Aaye from the 1951 film Naujawan sung by Lata Mangeshkar.

It is all about cool breeze, moonlight and stars; and youthful longing and laughter. Lyrics are by Sahir Ludhianvi and music by S.D. Burman. It's considered one of the earliest productions of the duo and Sahir's breakthrough into mainstream cinema.

Here it is:

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